Payback, Arkham Style
by faerietaleredux
Summary: When Vocal Adrenaline humiliates Rachel in the parking lot, an unlikely duo teams-up to deliver the revenge they deserve. Spoilers for "Funk."


_Note: Last night's episode of Glee left me traumatized. Plus, anyone notice how Quinn was curiously absent from Shuester's "payback is not the answer" lecture? Here's why._

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"What is going on here?"

Quinn looked up from her crouched position on the garage floor, grabbing one last spark plug before answering him. "Nothing you need to worry about, Puck."

"'Nothing I need to worry about,' are you kidding me?" He grabbed the gas can from her grip. "You're four months pregnant and I find you fooling around autoshop with the makings of an explosive. Oh, yeah—no need for concern."

Quinn smirked, but let him help her off the floor.

He patted her tummy with his free hand. "Is this the pregnancy hormones making you go a little whacko?"

She rolled her eyes, "yes, that's it exactly."

"Seriously, though, what are you up to? And where were you this afternoon? You missed a major showdown in Glee. Those V.D. choir punks egged Rachel on our own turf!-"

"-Oh, I heard what happened, believe me."

Puck blinked, finally starting to get an inkling of what was going on. "Are you planning something?"

Quinn puckered her lips but didn't say anything.

"Sweet! You're gonna let me in on it, right? I'm itching to give that Jesse St. James kid the smackdown he deserves."

She laughed, "I don't think so. You're enough trouble as it is. They're not going to be so lenient on you if you get caught again."

"Something tells me you're not planning on getting caught."

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Fourteen hours later, at 3:30 central time, two gleeks decked in black delivered special wake-up calls to six special members of _Vocal Adrenaline_. Members who had not participating in the egging would not be targeted, which allowed Quinn and Puck the opportunity to be much more creative in their execution of "project payback."

One by one, the duo left personalized video messages of doom, synchronized with each _VA_ student's morning alarm clock. And, of course, accompanying details for emphasis.

For example, female lead-singer Natasha, who harbors an acute phobia of dandelions, woke to a cloud of the fuzzy flowers raining down on her. Followed by a sticky shower of honey drops. Cleaning that mess was not going to be fun. Quinn smiled just thinking about it.

Puck eased himself out of a window, having put the last of eighteen clucking chickens inside one of the enemy's walk-in-closets.

Quinn cruised around front to pick him up in their get-away car. "Done?"

"Done."

He hi-fived her and lounged back in his seat. "I still don't know how you figured out exactly what each of their weakness is. It's crazy specific."

"You're forgetting I'm a former Cheerio. We had access to resources like you wouldn't believe, including psych profiles on every student within four districts."

"Well that's… disturbing."

"But useful."

He couldn't argue with that.

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When Jesse St. James woke up on the morning of June 2nd he got the honor of experiencing every one of the morning high jinks. Quinn and Puck called it "the full arsenal." Dandelions, honey, a family of skunks inhabiting his Rangerover, pictures of toothless clowns in places you don't want to know…among other specifics I'll refrain from mentioning, less it inspires you somehow.

And right on cue, the video message turned on.

"Good morning, Jesse." The voice was synthesized, coming from a masked figure in a fire-red wig.

"You're probably experiencing a degree of discomfort right now. But listen up because you're only going to hear this once, as this video will self-destruct in exactly two minutes.

Make no mistake, this attack is not coming from _New Directions_. Shuester's convinced the glee club should take the high road and you'll see the official glee reaction to your terrorism on Friday… No, these gifts are from me to you. Because it's one thing for you and your crones to pick on our team, and another for you to purposefully attempt to destroy us as individuals."

The figured paused, licking the dark black lipstick on her lips.

"In case you're thinking to take this to your coach, or anyone else for that matter, you should know that my idols as a child were Poison Ivy and Harlequin—so I'm entirely willing to up this conflict to a level even the Arkham Asylum inmates would shudder at. Plus, I have information on you that would make even your grandmother disown you."

She held up a black and white photo in the direction of her camera as evidence, before smiling a little too largely and continuing with her crusade.

"But nothing like that needs to happen if you follow my directions very closely: You will _never_ again calculate to humiliate someone weaker than you. I've done it for a large part of my life and can promise you it didn't make my world a better place. Secondly, you will apologize to Rachel Barry in a way that she finds completely satisfying. You have three days to comply. Because if you don't—well, you don't even want to know."

Then the screen went black and two seconds later the entire portable dvd player imploded in a fiery puff.

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Three days later Rachel came skipping into the glee club with stories of how their Funk performance had motivated the various _Vocal Adrenaline_ members to bend over backwards to apologize to her. "I should've known all along. Apparently, their 'deep seated envy of my incomparable talent' had momentarily turned them into raving lunatics. Look, one girl even sent me a box of gold stars!"

Quinn noticed the smile on Puck's face, a grin that was more than just from satisfaction at the success of their mission. "What?" she finally asked him, when they were out of the other's earshot.

"I was just thinking—what with my brawn and your brains and our mutual capacity for trouble—our little girl's going to be Batman's worst enemy."

She smiled and he put his arm around her. They were a good team when they wanted to be.

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_What do you think?_

_Disclaimer: Please don't think I'm advocating revenge as a solution to problems. In real life, it's always a bad idea. But in fiction, it can be deliciously fun._


End file.
